


DA031: A Bite of Home

by Rhion



Series: KMEME Prompts [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, kmeme challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 19:26:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhion/pseuds/Rhion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A man far from home will do much for a taste of it, when the foreign land he is in has so many differences that the things that are similar are only startling and at times painful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	DA031: A Bite of Home

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue
> 
> KMEME Prompt:
> 
> I wonder how many ladies are gonna love me for requesting this XD
> 
> So life in the Tower ended up making Amell a bit on the chubby side (not outright fat, just a little overweight). Being rather unpopular for one reason or another, she got constantly teased about her weight. Now, life on the road has caused her to loose some weight, but she's still terribly insecure about her own appeal. I want a loving man show her how much he appreciates her curves :3
> 
> Oh and no dwarves please.
> 
> Bonus points if it's first time sexings.
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings: Fluff and lots of it. Cuteness. Lots of that. Go to the dentist afterwards, I take no blame for your root canals. Sweet sex. Fellatio, cunnilingus, frottage (dry humpin’ ya’ll),  
> Tagine: A dish baked in a special clay pot, almost like a stew. Antivan soul food at its finest. (Well, alright, Moroccan actually, but c’mon, we all know I think of Antiva as Moorish Spain, Morocco and Bagdahd blended.)

Tagni Amell really didn’t know what to make of her companions sometimes. It was like they hung on her words, looked to her for guidance and actually _listened_. That was novel, and not a little frightening. She was just a mage, who had been far too recently cooped up in the Circle, with only Jowan for a friend, and Cullen as an admirer, albeit a _creepy_ one. Normally the eyes that turned her way would dance with mocking and somewhat malicious intent, always finding ways to put her down, and make her feel small. Or very big, as the looks some of her peers would give her, saying she really should put the muffin down. That was then, this was now, however, and she was still at a loss, unsure how to cope with all the attention sent her way.

But out of her current companions, one was the most perplexing. 

“Ah, Tagine, there you are!” Zevran always said her name so strangely ‘tagsh-knee’ instead of ‘tag-knee’, even though his accent twisted few words, but when he said hers, it seemed purposeful. “I found these for you,” and she was presented with a bundle of plants. “I saw that you were running low, and thought that perhaps you and I could share a few trade secrets? I could teach you some of the poisons, and you could teach me of these Ferelden poultices. They are very different from the ones back home.”

Shifting her cutting board on her knees, Tagni accepted the bunch with a curious glance. “I’d be happy to Zev, but um, could you say my name properly? It’s ‘tag-knee’ not ‘tagsh-knee’.”

With enviable grace he sat beside her, far closer than she felt fully comfortable with and propped his chin on a fist. “This again? I prefer my way. Tag-knee, it does not sing or dance, but plod. And you my dear do not _plod._ ”

Trying not to frown - after all, he was being nice, and that was a rarity in her experience - Tagni sighed. “If you say so.”

“Oh, I do.” A grin tugged at his mouth, making his entire face light up in a most perplexing way, and Tagni knew it probably heralded something out of her range of experience. “Now, why not show me yours, and I will show you mine?”

XXX

Leliana reached out, tucking the perpetual fall of Tagni’s bangs from her face. “You know, you really have a pretty face Tagni, you shouldn’t hide it so much. I know! You should let me do your hair, perhaps a different set of robes? Ones that do not cover you so much! Women, our assets don’t work well when hidden behind voluminous amounts of fabric.”

Tossing her black locks back, Tagni made a face. “Maybe women like you, but not ones like me.”

The Orlesian tutted, stepping around her, and tugged at the waist of her robes, pulling them in tight. “Not true, see? You have a tiny waist, and if we just tuck this bit here, it shows off your chest just so....”

“No, no,” Tagni protested, patting at Leliana’s hands as they began folding fabric here and there along her mage-robes. “No one needs to see my lumpy self like that!”

“Don’t be silly Tagni, it is best to draw attention to the good parts, that way people don’t notice the not so good ones,” Leliana hummed, already grabbing needle and thread before Tagni could stop her, and rummaging in her packs for the extra set of robes. “Here now, let me work on this, I know just the thing!”

Shifting from foot to foot nervously, Tagni wanted nothing more than to snatch the garments from the bard’s grasp and run. Once, back at the Tower, some of the older girls had ‘befriended’ her to give her a makeover. The results were disastrous, all her clothes were made far too small, and made her look like an overstuffed sausage. She wasn’t fat, or at least, she didn’t think so - she could set a fairly good clip on their marches, and while she was tired at the end of the day, she wasn’t broken or overly winded, but she certainly wasn’t svelte the way the other women in the group were. Morrigan was eerily graceful, moving like a predator, oozing her beauty and self-confidence, and Tagni could only be envious of it. And then there was Leliana herself, who held an air of sweetness and perfect bone structure and guileless blue eyes that could convince anyone that she was harmless. Or even _Wynne_ who, even as she was up in years, had a figure that Tagni could only gaze at wistfully, wishing she had that proud bearing and handsome face. 

She was just rolly-polly, neither short nor tall, with wide hips, an overlarge bottom, and breasts that on good days just overflowed from her breast binder. Her hair was probably the _only_ part of herself that she didn’t mind. Everything else was frightfully below average, even though she had lost some of the weight that the enforced confinement of the Tower had put on her. There was just no getting away from her heart-shaped face, almond shaped eyes of indeterminate hazel, and too full for her face mouth. Let alone the fact that she had far too many squishy parts that would never toughen and tighten up. So Leliana’s insistence of altering all of her garments made Tagni supremely uncomfortable. She just wanted to run away. 

“Stop fussing Tagni!” Leliana grabbed her hand stopping the mage from yanking at the too tightly by her estimation, bound robes. “If you keep that up, you’ll not keep your Zevran’s attention.”

Stopping cold, Tagni stared, mouth falling open as she sputtered, “W-what? M-my Zevran? No, no, no, he’s, he’s not my anything!”

Leliana’s nose wrinkled up as she gave Tagni a poke. “Maybe not yet, but he’s interested.”

Flushing scarlet, Tagni turned away, hiding her face in her hair as it fell forward. “He just flirts with everyone, that’s all, it doesn’t mean anything. He won’t even say my _name_ right! He keeps calling me ‘tagine’ for goodness sake!”

“ _Tagine_? Really?” Leliana burst out laughing, and covered her mouth as she shook her head, face the very picture of mirth. “Tagine? He calls you _’tagine’_? Surely you’re joking?”

Crossing her arms, Tagni frowned. “Yes, I’m certain. Why? What’s so funny about that?”

“It’s, it’s oh Maker! It’s an Antivan _food_! A stew, or, or something. It’s baked!” Leliana smothered giggles in Tagni’s spare robes, shaking her head. “Oh, oh Maker that is...that is just too much...”

Tagni’s eyes widened in shock and hurt. Unable to stop the sob that worked its way up her throat, the too sheltered mage, too often teased young woman ran away. She ignored the Orlesian’s worried calls, and ran past everyone in the camp, uncaring of who would see her. She just needed to hide, needed to find a spot where no one would notice her, and where maybe she could just have a good, embarrassed cry. Stumbling through the underbrush, she finally came to a stop and plunked down by the pool that Bodahn had found to put their camp by, and proceeded to go ahead and let loose her tears in earnest. It was stupid, she knew that, but she had hoped, however briefly, that it could be possible that Zevran actually might look at her. He was funny, intelligent, and had more class in his little pinky than she had ever come across. Not that she had much to compare to, but even so. And he had seemed to be genuinely interested in conversing with her frequently. More the fool she to have thought that there was some possibility that someone might think her at least worthwhile as more than the chubby friend.

It wasn’t like she had thought someone like him would be _interested_ in her, but perhaps at least... Swiping away the tears and goo that was all over her face, Tagni sucked in a deep breath, trying to release her upset. She didn’t need the Antivan’s mocking ‘kindness’, or anyone’s for that matter. Hadn’t the fifteen years at the Tower proved that already? Why should she be so foolish as to think that the world outside the Circle’s confines be any different? Even though it had _grass_ and _trees_ and free flowing water, butterflies, flowers, and open, clear sky... It had all lulled her with its beauty and freedom, making her forget that she was best off on her own. At least she had found out sooner rather than later, before making a fool of herself. All those bundles of herbs, the occasional flower, and those knowing smiles, witty comments that Zevran had sent her way were as patently false as any offer of friendship usually was. He probably just thought he had to _buy_ protection from the Crows from her, and was doing it the only way he knew how. 

Snuffling, Tagni shucked her clothes wanting to just wash away the realization that to him, she was just another master to be wooed. That hurt almost more than the knowledge he hadn’t cared about her friendship, but that she had been lumped along with all the others in his life that used him. She had thought she had shown him his efforts to be a part of the group were valued, and that he, himself was as welcome as the others. At least by her.

Swallowing thickly she summoned up her magic, heat blooming from her hands and directed at the pool in a long burst. Steam blasted up in the explosion of water, cascading down with the strength of her emotions. Sending another blast before testing the water, Tagni dipped a wary hand in. At least it wasn’t frigid, and in a moment she could heat it more efficiently while in the water rather than out of it. Stepping into the welcoming embrace of the water, she paddled clumsily deeper, having learned that from Morrigan and Leliana, so there was no fear of drowning. In the water she could hide her tears, and let them be washed away. And she wouldn’t have to _look_ at her nudity to wash it like in the tubs from the Circle. In these pools she could go till her feet barely touched the bottom with her head still above water and rub the dirt from her soft flesh without having to see each of her glaring faults. 

Popping back up from dunking her head, Tagni sighed, and shoved her long black hair from her face, the sodden strands twisting around her hands like vines. A light ripple made her jerk in alarm, and she realized she wasn’t alone in the water. Remembering Morrigan’s warnings about snakes and other dangerous things, she readied another blast of fire, worried. Until she saw a blond head break the surface near her, and the force of water shifting beneath the surface, heralding and identifying the Antivan’s presence in one move.

It was like a smack across her cheek, and Zevran was the last person she wanted to see at the moment. Or to have see her. But to leave she would have to exit, and show off every inch of her bareness, and that she couldn’t summon the strength to do. So she was well and truly trapped.

“You left camp so quickly my dear, I had not the chance to show you one of the poultices I learned how to make in Antiva,” with smooth strokes he came closer, his tone conversational. “It took a sharp eye, but I found most of the ingredients, and I thought you and I could discuss the finer points of their making, Tagine.”

Flinching, Tagni paddled away from him. “Not right now Zevran.”

“Tchk, ‘Zev’ to my friends,” and he followed, far faster than she could move, surging close, pushing the water up. “And we _are_ friends, or so I assumed, are we not? Come now,” and he was too close, too fast, and Tagni felt a hand reach under the water, snagging her waist as he pulled her closer, “why be so distant, neh?”

Unable to stop herself from blurting, “You call me a _food_! Friends don’t do that!”

“Ah,” the Crow’s voice was soft, and his hold too tight for her to escape from, and she could _feel_ all sorts of him pressed up close. “Why would friends not do that? I see no problem with it. A tagine is a very fine thing from home.”

Brow crinkling, Tagni fought to stay afloat on her own and possibly get loose of the assassin’s hold. “I know I’m fat, you don’t have to remind me. Friends don’t do that.”

A single brow shot up high on his forehead, his expression supremely arch. “‘Fat’? Who calls you such a foul thing? Perhaps I will educate them on the finer points of beauty. How rude.”

Gritting her teeth, Tagni turned her face to the side. “Stop mocking me. I don’t like it.”

“My dear, I am not mocking you,” his legs were moving beneath the water, keeping them both afloat as his free hand grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Why would you think I am?”

Pushing at his shoulders, Tagni forced him away, paddling to put as much distance as she could between them. “Because everyone does.”

She had no warning, no ripple or change in the water that she could notice because of her own frenzied swimming, but then arms came about her waist, and she was yanked back into a broad chest, dragged towards the shallower end of the pool. Flailing Tagni splashed, struggling. But his arms were like bands of bronze about her waist, and it didn’t matter that she was taller than him, the elf was thick with sinewy muscle, and almost as strong as Alistair. Hoisted and spun about, her feet slipped on the pool’s bottom, until she was face to face with Zevran who was giving her a hard look. Shivering under that gaze, Tagni tried to put her arms between them, to cover her chest, but he wouldn’t let her.

“Tagine, if I were mocking you, you would know it,” the edge like glinting steel in his words. “You are intelligent enough that you would pick up on any taunting I could devise. Tell me who these fools are who would dare to show you such contempt, and I will bring you their hearts on a silver platter if it were your wish.”

Taken aback by the sheer vehemence and violence of his tone, Tagni shrank. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this, he was always so flippant and playful, even amidst the thick of battle, laughing and joking about competing for points. This was an entirely different creature, one that she suddenly realized was the face of a hardened Crow, unflinching, unwavering, and iron-clad. Inviolate. It was the sort of hardness, the sort of chill that was the aspect of a man who could plan out and take someone’s life without it bothering him, seeing it as just a task that needed doing, all in purely cold blood. 

Swallowing nervously, Tagni tried to diffuse the situation, fully intimidated by Zevran for the first time. “It was nobody, just- just people at the Circle.”

Neat white teeth were bared in what might have been intended as a grin, but looked more like a snarl as he laughed. “Ah, good. They are mostly dead. Less mess for me to deal with.”

“No, no it’s, it’s alright, you don’t need to do that Zevran,” biting her lip, Tagni rushed. “It was just...teasing. Everyone does it. I was the bookish fat girl, that’s all.”

“Stop that Tagine,” the hardened exterior softened to merely firm. “You are not fat. Utter nonsense, and I will hear no more of it.”

Tagni shook her head, an unintentionally bitter laugh bubbling up, in spite of her usually sunny disposition. “Oh _please_. Parts of me jiggle, sag, and have dimples - and I don’t mean the cheeks of my face! I _know_ I don’t look like Morrigan, Leliana, Wynne, or any of the _perfect_ and _beautiful_ women around here. Elves, humans, _dwarves_ \- perfect. Me? Plain. Plain, frumpy, and dumpy and I know it. I don’t need or want you to be _nice_ to me to make me ‘feel better’ about myself. It’s best that I know my faults and just...just....” puttering out, Tagni ran out of steam, choking on another, damnable sob. 

“What is so attractive about these other women, Tagine? Have I missed some aspect of them that I should know about?” One arm was still locked around her, but he was once more tugging at her chin, and it felt so odd to be just above his eye-level, and at this angle he could see any of the ‘bad’ areas of her face. “I thought I had inspected them rather well, and yet you say that they are so enticing. And here I believed that my eyes were my own.”

“They’re tall, _thin_ , strong, and can fight! They all have these--” gesturing futilely at her chest, and how her over-large breasts didn’t stand at attention, or nipples turn upwards to give her that perky lift, “-- _perfect_ breasts. Their faces are completely symmetrical, their butts - oh their _butts_ don’t get me started! Not a bit of them sags or overspills the bounds of their clothes. They all are able to swing a sword or bow, or knife! I can’t even bandy your _dar’misu_ around for long without my arms starting to hurt! They can wear anything they want, or nothing at all and no one will tell them they’re too ugly to walk about. Me? _Me_? Solana once said in the girls’ bath, that if she had money she’d _pay_ me to put my clothes back on so she didn’t have to see ‘the large white wall’ of my _ass_.”

“Firstly, is this ‘Solana’ alive?” And Tagni shook her head, shying from the memory of what had been done to Solana, her dismembered body on the first floor of the Tower. “Too bad. Second, Ferelden women? They are intriguing for a time. It can be interesting to have a woman be stronger than myself, at least for a little while. But if she can swing a sword, pick locks, shoot bows, make poison, and garrote someone as well as I can, it gets...boring. It is as if I am spending time with a version of myself with breasts. Which, granted, that might be fun for a few hours. You see, I will readily admit that Ferelden women are handsome. Like men. With breasts. And muscles. Large muscles. However, it loses its novelty after a time, being with a man with breasts just...the appeal, it wears off. Understand?”

Shaking her head in confusion, Tagni was perplexed. “No, no I don’t understand.”

Zevran made a clucking sound as his expression became thoughtful, searching. “What separates a man from a woman? The penis? The bosoms? Are those the sole differences that the Maker intended for us, no matter that he did not make them for looks? In Ferelden, this seems to be the case.” Tagni was held fast against him, his arm supporting her weight along with the water, while his thumb rubbed circles over her cheek. “Antiva is a place where men and women know their places. Certainly there are women who are able to fight, to kill with strength, but just as many who use poison and kisses. They rely on more than their arms. Men share the burden, as our bodies are built for war, while a woman’s is soft, meant to protect hearth and heart, while the men stand in the door of the home, receiving the blunt forces of the outside world. A woman is soft, able to nurture and turn to a spitting hellcat in a flash, but yet, she allows the men to have actual use. Otherwise, what good is a man? We do not naturally plan for long term things, we are capable of nurturing, but it is not always instinctive. If a woman must take up arms, then that is because she has no one to share life’s burdens with her properly.”

“You mean the women are caged?” staring at his mouth as he spoke, Tagni shuddered. “I’ve had enough of cages.”

“Hmmn, yes, we have all had too much of cages, no? No, women are not caged, they are...protected? No, no that is not the correct word I seek.” He sucked in a breath between his teeth, gaze going inwards, reminding her that Ferelden, no matter how fluent he was in it and even able to make wordplay, was not his native language. Which was another mark of how intelligent he was. “This will come out wrong, I am sure, but please, bear with me. A man’s body is no fragile thing, neither is a woman’s, after all they do frequently give birth and survive, which a man never could do. But while a man’s body is strong, it is also, ultimately disposable beyond giving up their seed for future generations. While women, they are built to care for, provide for, and give rise to the new. So, men, we are the ones who must be hard, otherwise what use do we have? None. Or not much. Without women, men are naught but simple creatures content to eat, shit, piss, fight and fuck. No heart. No soul. Even the Maker had no heart without Andraste. A man is the wall between women and the bad things in the world caused either by other men, or the world’s natural dangers. In return, he gains a heart, but the only one who can protect and nurture that small thing is the woman. Not to say that all men are this way, it is just that there are few who are not.”

“That...almost makes sense,” Tagni replied. However, she couldn’t help but counter him, “But women fight. Women can be just as content to...be base creatures.”

Zevran growled at her lightly, his frustration evident. “Yes, that is true. I will not attempt to say that it is not, for I cannot. However, I like it best when a woman is a woman. Not when a woman is a man with bosoms like boulders and forearms thick as my calf.” He snorted indelicately, pressing her closer and she shivered, reminded of their mutual nudity. “A woman should have curves, be soft and warm and inviting. I miss that about home. The food and the women - that is what made it home. And here in this strange land whose novelty has worn off, all I want is _home._ ”

She was about to say something, but then she realized just how close Zevran’s face was, realized his hand was on her face, pulling her near. That was all she could register before warm lips were on hers. Startled, Tagni jerked, only to find that he was pushing her arms from between them, and tugging at her chin with his thumb as his fingers curled along her jaw, preventing her from moving away, yet again. There was a low hum that came from him, the vibration travelling over her mouth and she gasped, only to find his tongue slipping in. Unable to stop a moan, Tagni’s hands searched for something to hold onto, and met his impossibly solid and broad shoulders. For a long time she was lost in the feel of him licking her tongue, coaxing it to respond, her eyes clenched shut. 

No one had ever _kissed_ her before.

With a soft sigh, Zevran broke free, running his hand over her cheek and into her hair, stroking her with a gentleness that was as shocking as it was surprising. “Compassion, intelligence, strength and beauty - all in one woman. Any who say otherwise are naught but fools my dear.”

Touching her lips, Tagni stared at him. “You-you _kissed_ me.”

“Of course, I have been wanting to for some time,” saying it as though it were the most natural thing in the world while tilting his head to the side, his lips quirked. “Is it so strange that a man wish for a bite of home?”

“Nobody’s...nobody has ever kissed me before,” whispering, still unable to look away from him.

“Tchk, have we not already discussed how stupid they are? Uncivilized, simply barbaric. Unable to appreciate a real woman to hold in their arms, neh?” The smooth callus of his palms slid over her shoulders and down her back, around to her front, and up to her chest with an easy familiarity that made Tagni blush. “I could stop if you wish, but unless you tell me to, I will not. You are far too lovely to go untouched.”

Stepping back, Tagni covered herself as best she could. “I-I... Zevran I... I do like you, but I-”

“Shh.” His hands were warm where they wrapped around her wrists, pulling them away. “Are you embarrassed? I assure you, you are very beautiful, and I wish to see you. All of you; so there is nothing to be embarrassed over. Are you afraid I might hurt you? I swear I will not. If you are unsure of my interest, please do not doubt, as I am quite certain that I want you... But, if you are unsure of your desire for me, I will not press further. I will not force myself on you Tagine, for I do not think I could bear to ever harm you in any manner.”

Shivering at the hypnotic sound of his voice, Tagni ducked her head, the partially dry locks hiding her face away as she forced her vocal cords to cooperate, “I do... I do want you. I... I’m scared. You might not...like me after.”

“Hmm, a common problem.” He didn’t give her time to think, and Tagni found her face held in both hands, brought down the scant inches that separated them, until they were nose to nose. “I can wait longer until you are more certain of my intent. I do not wish to, but I will, and I give you my oath that I have no intention of giving up my pursuit easily.”

Those could be just words, Tagni knew that, but looking into his gold eyes, seeing the set expression, she could swear she _felt_ the force of his determination like a physical thing, enveloping her like a warm, sturdy blanket. How many times had he run before her, dancing into the path of arrows or falling blades to keep attackers from her? Zevran didn’t do that for Wynne or Morrigan when they were in the party. Just her. Her vials of lyrium were always well stocked, even when she thought she had none left. He always ate the first bite of food from whatever meal had been served, as though it were the most natural thing ever to do so, making sure there was no poison or taint to the meal. How fast he moved from one end of a battlefield to another, to appear just when she thought she would be overwhelmed, his blades twirling lightning fast, as he spun, nothing more than a golden streak of death, keeping her from harm. Whenever she picked middle watch, he always traded her for his, ensuring she had something approaching a full night’s rest. 

Zevran didn’t do that for anyone else.

Trembling, Tagni came to her decision, knowing that he would keep his promise, sure for the first time that someone meant what they said. “I’m s-scared but, I... I do want you, and I want...now, please?”

It was as though he had been bracing himself for rejection, for the surprise - and relief - on his face spoke volumes. “Let me show you then how beautiful you are. Give yourself to my care.”

Licking her lips Tagni made her arms go around his shoulders and step closer. The smile he gave her then was bright, soothing, and sent heat straight down to her toes. He took her hand and tugged her towards the shore, walking backwards, and she had to hold her breath and bury her fear as he swept her head to toe with an appreciative look. Allowing herself to peek at him, her first impression was of tawny muscle, wound with black tattoos all over, and slim scars. 

Her second glance took an effort of will, to see what Fate had in store for her, and resulted in her mumbling, “There’s no way that’ll fit!”

A burst of laughter, and the member in question flexed with his chuckle. “Not as it stands at the moment, no. It will take some work, but it is blissful work, yes? Come,” he said as he continued guiding her over the grass to a piled bedroll, and she realized he had _planned_ this. “Let us begin.”

Slowly she sat down, following Zevran’s lead as he so often followed hers. He looked different with his hair completely unbound, a tiny detail she hadn’t particularly noticed, too distracted by her upset and their conversation, but now, all she wanted to do was touch it. Shyly, Tagni scooted closer reaching out, as Zevran ran his palm over the back of her hand and up her arm. His hair was as soft as it looked, and she focused on that for a moment, as it seemed safe enough territory while he gave her an encouraging smile. Feeling braver, the young mage worked her way nearer still and lost her balance, but she was caught doubly - Zevran’s arms were around her once more, and his gaze as well. 

Blushing, Tagni glanced away, only to find him pushing her gently back and rolling to hover over her, his weight balanced on an elbow and his knees. “Do not hide so, _amante_. Do not hide from yourself or me. May I take over? May I show you as I see you? Allow me this, and I will ensure you never regret it.”

Her eyes widened at the low, rough quality of his voice, and the warmth of him hovering so near, but not quite touching, radiated through her very bones, like a blast of sunshine. “What do you need me to do?”

“ _Feel_ ,” the word accompanied by his lips descending over her mouth, stopping briefly before they moved on, and downwards.

It was an onslaught, unfamiliar and frightening, yet she felt blanketed in safety as velvet-coarse-soft lips moved from hers to her neck and along her collarbone. With shaking hands she reached up for him, needing to touch him, to feel the surety of his presence with her own touch, and not simply submit. Her world narrowed down to the sensation of his breath on her skin, and when he reached her chest his hands joined in, along with the press of his weight against her side, Tagni arched, whimpering. The flick of a tongue, followed quickly by a swirl and then sucking around a nipple left Tagni flinching. Large hands moulded her breasts as he nuzzled at her soft flesh, and she drew a sharp breath, making herself take in the apparent pleasure he felt at touching her there. Zevran spent a long time on her chest and shoulders, long enough that Tagni finally began to relax into the swamping and unfamiliar tension that began to build. 

Anywhere he touched was left tight and hot, shivery and cold in one. No part was left unexplored, even burying his face under the curve of a breast, lapping the thin skin that attached her breasts to her chest and tenderly kissing it. Her fingers flexed on his upper arms, as she sought to hold herself back from thrusting them into his hair. Tagni felt more than heard the short growl that came before his cheek rubbed over her stomach, and she squeaked in surprise. His weight shifted, coming to rest between her legs, his shoulders near her hips as he spent several moments simply pressing his face to her stomach. It wasn’t particularly sensational, but his brief, contented sigh was peaceful. Licking her lips, Tagni let her hands do what they were begging to, and she cradled his head, combing her fingers through the soft locks. 

“You are so gentle and soft, Tagine, _mi querida_ ,” Zevran gave her a serene smile as he spoke, one she hadn’t seen before and it made her have the sudden urge to simply grab him and hang on tight, never to let go.

Shaking her head at him, Tagni’s brow crinkled. “I don’t know that word.”

Zevran only closed his eyes and shook his head once, returning to kissing her stomach once more, moving down further, his palms massaging the flesh of her hips and down her thighs. It tickled as his fingers curled around the backs of her legs, each touch raising the short hairs there. Shuddering when the wet heat of his mouth opened over her inner thigh, Tagni couldn’t smother her moan. In reply there was a much louder growl than the last, and the nip of teeth digging in and scraping over her sensitive inner thigh elicited a gasp, and Tagni arched, helpless. The kisses continued towards the apex of her sex, and Tagni squirmed, trying to get away, uncertain, but Zevran only rumbled, hooking his shoulders under her legs, forcing them up. Yelping in surprise at the wetness of his mouth covering her flower, Tagni bolted upright, or as upright as she could get. 

Strong hands came around from under her hips, pushing her back down, palms filling with her breasts, and Tagni moaned in full this time as her petals were spread by Zevran’s questing tongue. The moan turned to a broken keen of shock when his mouth found the pearl nestled in her folds, and she was only vaguely aware of one hand slipping away from her to the side as she whimpered brokenly. Something cold nudged at her opening, breaching it and Tagni realized that the probing came from long, dexterous fingers exploring her entrance slowly as his mouth continued its assault. Writhing, Tagni bit her lip on a cry when the fingers went deeper, curling upwards, the cool sharpness of whatever was on his fingers a striking contrast between the surging heat inside her core. And it was building, deep within her body, behind her pubic bone, and suddenly she went still, as light exploded behind her eyes, throbbing in time to the stroking inside her channel and the suckling on her nubbin. 

Zevran worked his way back up her body, his digits still busy within her sex, planting kisses along the way. “Mmmyes, very much like home.”

Tagni groaned, her legs shifting around him, as she bucked, her hands framing his face. “Please, I want, I want,” whimpering, she touched his glistening lips with a fingertip. “Please kiss me?”

“You have only to ask,” he murmured.

The taste of his mouth was different, as Tagni knew it was herself she tasted, the flavor sharp and strong, but far from unpleasant, sweeping in along with his tongue. Wrapping her arms around him, Tagni tried to return his kiss with the same amount of skill he showed her, but worried she fell short. Even so, it didn’t stop, and that was what she wanted most -- for him to never stop. His weight lay over her, and the arm that was pinned between them flexed as he continued working at her channel diligently, and she could feel herself slowly loosening around his digits. Another flood of warmth came, softer, slower, gentler than the last, coaxed from her twitching muscles as Zevran hungrily devoured her mouth. 

Throwing her head back when Zevran’s head dipped down to nuzzle and nip at her throat, Tagni let her legs join her arms, and pulled him tight to her, wanting nothing at all more than to feel completely connected to him. She wished she knew how to return some of how he was making her feel, and prayed that she might get that chance some time. Soft words were whispered to her urgently in a rising and falling cadence, none of which she could follow, too lost in the cascade of sensation to try and pick any of it out with what little he had taught her of Antivan. 

Rolling her hips up towards him, Tagni mewled, pleading. “Zevran!”

“ _Si, amante,_ I am here, you are lovely, _yes_ , that’s it, let it go!” more urging, his mouth by her ear, kissing it lightly with each word. 

Tossing her head side to side, Tagni fought to make herself understood, hips surging against his. “Need-- need you!”

There was barely a moment between when his hand was still pressed to her and then she was being _filled_ , his hands going to her hips, locking her down while she undulated as she sought to have him as close as possible right then, right there. But she couldn’t stop her gasping, the feeling so very different as the hard length of him pushed in and out lightly, working its gradual way in. Even so, Tagni thought she would break apart, to shatter into a thousand pieces as the short strokes turned longer and deeper, and there was no pain, none at all, only the sense of fullness and stretching, and Zevran’s heavy warmth making her feel completely safe, and for the moment utterly connected to him. 

A deep, harsh groan was pulled from within Zevran, and she felt it as though a deep rumbling came from inside his chest and filled her in turn. “ _Tagine_ ,” and even still he called her a blasted _food_ , but Tagni didn’t care, not with the way he said it, not with that hoarse note of desperation as he paused, hovering over her, forehead coming to rest against her cheek. 

Tagni struggled to hold herself in check, sensing his need to gather himself, so she settled for rubbing her cheek against his forehead and twisting to kiss his crown. This earned her clutching hands and a snap of hips, grinding against her, forcing a whimper from her throat. One of his arms swung back, grasping her leg beneath the knee, pulling her open and holding her still at the same time, freeing his other to come up and cup her cheek. The wet slide of him inside her was accompanied by a flexing pulse, and Tagni babbled, unsure of what she was saying, or if she was being stupid, however there wasn’t a bit of her that cared. Not when each move and slow lunge filled her over and over again, hitting some magical spot, not when Zevran kept up a steady stream of words she only half understood. How could she care about anything but feeling closer to him, about the mounting pressure, the exquisite build that didn’t stop and was picking her up and dashing her down from a high cliff? 

All sense of time vanished, her only awareness of the slipperiness of their bodies twisting together, and Zevran’s voice grounding her in some form of reality. Weak Tagni went limp, drained even as he surged against and over her with seeming boundless strength. Marvelling at the rippling of his muscles beneath his skin, Tagni arched for Zevran, pulling him in all the way, her hands smoothing over his effort slicked back. Smoothing his hair back, Tagni held his face, tracing his cheekbones with her fingers, entranced by how his expressions fluttered and changed, going from intent to soft in a single breath. His rhythm began to gain force until he reared up, crashing against her to the hilt, and Tagni’s voice caught as his whole body went taut, his lids flying wide as he stared down at her. 

Zevran’s lips moved, but no sound came out, and Tagni thought she could catch what he was trying to say, just as he collapsed against her, “ _No me hagas daño, querida._ ”

There was a last flurry of thrusts, which when coupled with the splashing in her sheath, sent Tagni over the edge once more, as she had been so close. And then Zevran was still, but for his faint panting, and the arms that pushed themselves beneath her to hold her tight. By the time he moved again, Tagni was almost dozing off, pleasantly sore, warm, and just a little too sticky. Whimpering as he pulled free, Tagni rocked her hips, not wanting to lose him. 

“Shh,” fingertips lay over her mouth as Zevran slipped the rest of the way out. “I need to use more cream on you so you are not too sore.”

Making herself sit up, Tagni swayed, and had to catch herself while Zevran stretched grabbing a small jar with a lazy one-handed swipe from the side of the bedroll. She felt creaky and very sleepy, and very much not in the mood to leave the spot she was in at the moment. Zevran’s smile was faintly knowing as he scooped out a good sized dollop of lemon-sweet scented paste and reached down between her still trembling thighs to stroke her sore sheath with the same amount of care he had continued to show the entire evening.

Catching his wrist as he pulled it back, Tagni saw that there wasn’t any blood. “But this was my first time...?”

“Not all women have a maidenhead, but this will still prevent too much pain in the morning,” he explained easily. “Or if you had one, it would have likely been broken by the exertions of our daily treks.”

She was going to say something, ask some other question, but she couldn’t remember what it was as a jaw cracking yawn overtook her. “Oh... I am...so...sleepy!”

Further revelations came that Zevran had planned for, or at least hoped for the night’s events to occur, as he pulled out his pack from behind the nearby rock, and unfurled several blankets that had been stuffed inside. “Sleep is most beneficial after such exertions, Tagine. Come, let me hold you,” his arms came around her as he said that, pulling her in close to nestle against him.

He drew the blankets around them, tucking them along her back, and she couldn’t help mumbling into his chest, “You planned this.”

“Not as such, no,” she heard his voice rolling in the caverns of his lungs, like far off thunder. “I had hoped that I could find a more graceful way, a more soothing way, to earn my way into your arms. But seeing you run off the way you did, clearly upset, I thought that perhaps I could distract you. However, I did not know what would happen.” Fingers tangled themselves in the hair at the nape of her neck, massaging her scalp. “Why _did_ you run off like that? Did Leliana say something cruel to you?”

There was a measured blandness in his tone when he asked the last part, and Tagni remembered his offer to bring her hearts on a platter if someone upset her. Shaking her head as strongly as she could muster the energy for, she explained, “I told her what you called me, and she told me it was some baked Antivan dish. I thought... I thought you called me that to make fun of me.”

“No.” His other hand snaked under the covers, stroking the fist that she had unconsciously made over his heart, pressing it flat. “There are certain foods in any country that...those from that country associate with their homeland. A thing that brings them comfort, and the sense of being home, even if they are far from it, if they come across these dishes in foreign lands. A tagine is...baked yes, it is filling and it, it is something that makes me feel good. Your name, it is so similar, and--” he stopped in his sleepy sounding ramble suddenly.

Exhausted but curious enough to push, Tagni raised her face from his shoulder. “And what? I win ten sovereigns?”

“Ah, no,” he gave her a rueful grin. “You make me feel as though I have found the source of all tagines, all the foods of home, and all the qualities of women who are women, in one place. I like it, it makes me feel...safe. And strong. Protective. Useful.” He paused, “Good, like I am good.”

“I think I won a lot more than ten sovereigns, Zevran,” her head was muzzy but that made sense. “To me, you are those things. You haven’t ever been any other way. It’s...it’s why I was so upset when I thought you--”

“Shh, no more, _querida_ ,” Zevran’s voice was faintly stern, and his roughened palm on her cheek was firm. “Any who do not see you for the woman you are, are not worth you worrying over. They are nothing. You are strong, yet supremely gentle and kind. You make others strive to be better than they are. Leave it, and worry no more for those who have pitiful, meaningless lives filled with their pettiness.”

When he said it while looking at her like that, Tagni decided that for now, she could just accept what he said as true. She highly doubted she would ever really believe that she was as worthwhile as he made her out to be. But what she could believe in wholeheartedly, was that he saw her that way. It was enough, more than enough. So she settled down, and let him hold her close. 

It was enough, and she, for once, was at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Amante - lover (gender neutral word)
> 
> mi querida - my beloved (in the feminine)
> 
> No me hagas daño, querida - don't hurt me, beloved


End file.
